


I Refuse to be 'Sir' Today

by Sherlock1110, sherlockian4evr



Series: The Detective, His Doctor, His Brother and His DCI [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: - incidental, Anal Plug, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Cock Cages, Collars, Cuffs, Daddy Kink, Dom John, Dom/sub, Dominance, Gags, Ginger Plugs, Hair-pulling, Kneeling, M/M, Nipple Clamps, Orgasm Denial, Spanking, Sub Sherlock, Submission, Switch Greg, Switch Mycroft, corner time, paddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-07 10:20:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6799816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/sherlockian4evr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Both Greg and Mycroft are in the mood to sub and cannot agree who should take on the role of Dom for the day. They decide to let John decide. The problem? They didn't ask if John wanted to play arbiter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stubborn

Greg rolled over and stared at the older man. He felt like he needed to go back to subbing for a while, but the way Mycroft was snuggled into him, making him look like the protective figure made Greg realise that they may have to fight for the role. They'd been home a few days and had played just the once due to being back at work, but Greg had said last night they were both to call in sick today. He reached over and grabbed his mobile and made the necessary call. He was now officially sick for the day. If Mycroft was going to do the same, he had best get a move on, because the DCI wasn't about to remind him. That wasn't the sub's role. He decided to make the first move at being the sub. If there was a fight for it, so be it. He shuffled down the bed and wrapped his lips around the older man's cock. If that didn't make his position clear, then Greg didn't know what would.

For a few moments, Mycroft enjoyed the wet heat of Greg's mouth, but then he woke enough for his mind to wake to the implications of the position and he pulled out and backed away. “Don't you think I should be doing that, sir,” he said pointedly.

“But it's my go!”

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “But I'm always the Dom!”

“But you're not a very good sub because you don't do what your Dom tells you to.”

“I do!”

“Then why haven't you texted the office?”

“Damn.” Mycroft grabbed his phone and shot off a text. “There. I'm sick, unless a world war breaks out, of course. Now where were we, sir?”

“Nope. I refuse to be 'sir' today, Myc.”

“Hmm, then where were we, Daddy?”

“That's a low blow, Mycroft, but still, no.”

The two men stared at each other in a stalemate.

“Then it's going to be boring, isn't it?”

The DCI folded his arms, pouting, much like Sherlock did.

“That's it,” Mycroft threw the covers back, kind of missing the younger man's mouth around his cock. He shoved his dressing gown on and rang Anthea. “A car from mine to Baker Street in 10 minutes,” he said. If they couldn't resolve it between them they'd get John to.

The two men climbed into the car, wearing little more than pyjamas, dressing gowns, shoes and coats against the weather. They both felt that getting properly dressed was taking one step too far towards the dominant role.

Wisely, Anthea refrained from so much as raising an eyebrow.

Sherlock sighed as he looked out the window. “Sir, we have a dilemma.”

John walked in and handed him a mug. “Dilemma?”

“Well, I would call my brother with his boyfriend both in pyjamas turning up on our doorstep a dilemma.”

“No!” John flew to the window. “Greg, sure, but not... What the fuck?”

“They're arguing and you'll have to settle it.”

“Me!” John squeaked. “Why me?”

“Because you are the solely committed Dom amongst the four of us. That's the crux of their argument, which one of them should sub at the moment and which one should Dom, hence the pyjamas.”

“Greg I understand, he's a normal guy, but Mycroft… in pyjamas leaving the house…”

“By the look on his face, it was his idea.”

John sighed and ran his hands through his hair. He turned back to Sherlock. “As I'm not going to get out of this, if you break our rules, interfere for a laugh or get cocky or smug, I won't hesitate to punish you in front of either of them. Are we clear on that?”

“Perfectly, sir. Just sort them, please.”

John ran his fingers through Sherlock's dark curls. “I'll do my best. Now, shall we set the stage? Come kneel with your head in my lap.” He went and sat in his chair, his legs splayed wide. Sherlock knelt between them and placed his head resting against his Dom's left thigh, his face turned towards the door.

At the tentative knock on the door, John called enter.

When the two men came in they appeared like children scuffling around, acting guilty and shifty.

“Both of you get in here and kneel there,” the doctor pointed.

Now the two looked up in shock.

“I'm looking at two very naughty, very childish subs that are thinking only of themselves, not their partners. That needs to change.”

“But, John-”

The Dom silenced Greg with a glare. “You want to be told what to do, and give up control, that's selfish when you know that's what Mycroft wants as well.” He nudged Sherlock out of the way. “So I'm taking control. Unless either of you want to safe word?” John looked back at his beloved sub. “That goes for you too, pet.”

Sherlock glared at the 'pet' comment.

“Hey!” John cautioned.

That made Sherlock duck his head a little.

John went back to looking at the new arrivals. “Well?” He demanded sharply.

Mycroft and Greg exchanged glances. The DCI spoke for them both, “We have no objections, sir.”

“Good.” John went and fetched two six inch lengths of chain with gator clamps at either end. “Kneel up facing one another.” The Dom clamped their nipples such that they were linked to one another, right nipple to left, left nipple to right. “Maybe, now, you'll think of each other.”

Sherlock let his gaze flicker to the both of them and then dropped his head, his curls hiding his smirk successfully.

“Er…” Mycroft muttered as John removed their dressing gowns and threw them over a nearby chair.

“Drinks, boy,” he said to Sherlock before turning back to the older brother, “Problem?”

The younger Holmes was still determined to behave when in the presence of his brother, so he crawled into the kitchen and up onto a step stool to get two glasses of water. He brought them back to the living room and handed one to each man.

“Don't let me catch you drinking it yourself.”

Both men were suddenly a bit overwhelmed. There had been no conversation, nothing, just straight into it. John was kind of proud with how much trust these three men seemed to put into him. They looked up at the doctor.

“You came here because neither of you wants to grow up. I don't care how long it takes but by the time you leave one of you will be wanting to Dom the other if not both and then we have to start all over again.”

Greg bit his lip. “You first?” He lifted his glass a bit, hesitating and oh so careful not to tug on the chains between them. Mycroft blushed, but drank from the proffered glass. It was oddly sensual, perhaps the most sensual thing he had ever done.

Now it was Mycroft's turn to lift, he didn't have quite a steady hand as Greg. He ended up covering the DCI with more than what he managed to get into him. Greg jerked at the sudden cold touch, yanking the clamps off.

The DCI yelled out, “Jesus buggering fuck!” and brought his hand up to cover his aching nipples.

Mycroft was more reserved. His nipples ached, but the clamps hadn't let go, just pulled mightily.

“You're a bloody moron!” Greg exclaimed.

“You were the one that-”

“Boys, enough!” John barked. “You couldn't even manage 60 seconds without going back to being selfish brats.” John crossed his arms. “Again, any of you are free to safe word, but unless you do, you are both to put your selfish feelings aside. Neither of you are to get off, but you are to make my lovely boy come. I don't care how you do it, but you will work together to make it happen and to make sure.” John stepped forward and cuffed Mycroft's left wrist to Greg's right.

“But I'm left handed!” Mycroft complained.

“And I'm right handed!” Greg added.

John just smiled a self-satisfied smile and sat in his chair to watch.

Sherlock, however, found himself already half hard where he knelt. His Dom was watching and that made all the difference. He could enjoy this guilt free. If only the other two subs would act.

“And, 'Lock, you can be as obedient or disobedient as you like, after all, they aren't your Doms, however, you will ask me for permission before you come.”

At those words Sherlock felt his length begin to harden, he slowly reached down and ran his hand up and down for a moment before glancing up to check it was okay, John just smiled reassuringly, he couldn't fault his boy for the last few days so he was welcome to do what he liked. He stopped himself, though, he wanted to enjoy it and not do all the work himself.

As one unit, Mycroft and Greg crawled towards Sherlock. He stopped them rather abruptly by grasping each of their cocks in his hands. “I like to see happy toys when I get pleasured, even if you won't be getting off yourselves.”

“How would you know what you like when you get pleasured?” Mycroft growled back. “You've never been a Dom.”

“No. But my Dom isn't harsh. He sucks me off… and he's always grinning.”

“I'm going to make this quite clear. Sherlock is not domming either of you. You came to me for help not him, he's just an interested party benefiting the most.”

Looking at Sherlock and his bobbing cock did something to the two switches. Mycroft went for his brother's nipples with his wicked mouth and tongue. Greg went straight for his cock. They used the combined strength of their cuffed hands to bend him over backwards and he mewled under the onslaught. Despite enjoying the treatment, Sherlock had never made anything easy for his big brother. He wasn't about to start now. He had more leeway than the switches did, given the fact he had both hands. He shuffled out from beneath the two of them and jumped over the cuffs. The result: Mycroft and Greg tangling themselves up with one another. It was a bit awkward what with the cuffs and arms digging into his back, but the look he could imagine on his brother's face was worth it. In fact... Sherlock could just reach two pyjama clad bums. He wriggled his hands beneath the waist lines, not finding any pants and squeezed Greg's and Mycroft's cheeks. They just ended up further tangled by the time Sherlock was free.

John was doubled up in laughter as Sherlock went and sat on his lap, his rock hard cock bobbing between his legs. Sherlock grabbed John's hand tentatively and placed it over his erection, rubbing along his cock in a teasing, non-insistent manner. “What are you going to do with them, sir?” He was genuinely curious.

They were still struggling to straighten themselves up when they finally managed it, they stayed on their knees, heads low yet still managing to look guilty.

John stroked Sherlock's cock absently. “What do you think, pet? Keeping them together isn't working. Maybe we should try the opposite. Tie them up across the room from each other. Leave them neglected while I have fun with you. One of them would surely snap and try ordering us around.”

“You won't let them though, will you? Sir?”

“Why won't I?”

“Because if you suddenly feel the urge to submit having four subs will not make this dilemma any easier to resolve.”

John chuckled. “God, no. I have absolutely no desire to be ordered around. I had more than enough of that in the army and trust me, it was never a turn on. Never.” He ran his thumb over the head of Sherlock's cock. “I much prefer being the one in charge.”

“You mean driving me mad.”

“What was that, pet?”

“Nothing, sir.”

“Good. Then off you pop, go and grab the bench from upstairs.”

Sherlock returned with the bench and set it down in the middle of the room.

John had uncuffed the two men from each other by this point and was now cuffing Mycroft to an eye ring set low in the wall near the fireplace.

“Greg, up on the bench, head turned to face Mycroft,” the Dom ordered. “Sherlock, move the bench a bit more that way.”

Obeying his Dom immediately he knelt directly between the two men, he raised his hands behind his head and glanced down at his cock… if only he could resist the need to wind up his brother he would have had his release by now, he was sure.

John walked around behind Sherlock and ran his hands along his shoulders, easing the tension from them. He worked his hands down his arms and around his front to play with his nipples. He bent his head to whisper in his ear, “You are mine, first and always, mine.”

Sherlock smiled. “Always,” he whispered.

John then moved to where Greg had climbed on the bench.

“Mmm, how to tie you?”

Greg's pupils had blown wide. He had thought the day would come when Mycroft and Sherlock would let him play with John, but he had never imagined a scenario like this.

“Looking a bit excited there Greg.”

The DCI chose not to respond.

“You better stay facing that way,” John ordered, tying a newly placed collar around his neck to the hook on the bench. He grabbed his wrists next and pulled them around behind him, cuffing them into place. He ran a line from the cuffs to a hook on the bench. “That'll do for now.” John grinned. “And here I thought I'd have to wait to get a chance to play with you, but look at that.” He palmed Greg's cock through his pyjama bottoms. “You're so excited, just like Mycroft. Too bad the two of you only get to watch.”

The DCI moaned something.

“What was that, little policeman? Problem?”

“No, sir,” he grumbled through gritted teeth.

Across the other side of the room, Mycroft was fighting the cuffs in his bid for freedom and the chance to get at his brother's cock.

“Mycroft!” John snapped, though he was fighting down a giggle, “Is that any way for a sub to behave?”

The government official froze, looking embarrassed at being called out. “No, sir. Sorry, sir.”

“Maybe you're the one that should be the Dom then, hmm? You clearly fight this more than Greg does.”

The DCI let out a little chuckle. “I win!”

The doctor cleared his throat. “No, I don't think so, somehow, brat, do you?” John pulled his chair equidistant between the two men and sat in it with his legs splayed wide. “Come here, pet, and use that lovely mouth of yours. Show our guests how good you are at taking me out with it.”

Sherlock looked down at his own cock. “Mmm.”

“Don't worry, boy, we'll get to that. I'll make sure of it. And if either of these two are going to play up, there's always the array of cock cages Mycroft had put upstairs.”

Both the switches went very still at that. Mycroft especially, since he had been the one most recently caged.

“Much better,” John approved. His jeans were open by this time. When Sherlock mouthed at his cock through his pants, he gave a sharp intake of breath. “Eager, pet?”

“Yes, sir.”

“My good boy.” He cupped his cheek with one hand and yanked his pants down with the other. “Get to it, then, babe, show these two what a real sub is like and at the same time I get to show off.”

Sherlock went giddy at the thought. He kissed the tip of John's cock reverently, looking up at his Dom through his lashes. He wanted this to be good, no, better than good. He wanted this to be intimately pornographic. He stared at the practically fully hard length in front of him before he lunged, swallowing his Dom down whole.

“Hmm, good boy,” John purred, he risked a glance at Mycroft, who was drowning as well as pouting like an older version of the consulking detective. “Hmm, you have such a lovely mouth, boy, but let's take it slow.” Sherlock began bobbing on his Dom's cock at a slow even pace. John let his hands roam over his pet's body, pinching here, stroking there, leaving little scratch marks that glowed red against pale flesh. “That'a boy.”

“John,” Mycroft complained going back to his struggling. He could feel himself rock hard beneath his pyjamas.

John groaned at the interruption. “Pet, go get some ice and one of the cages. It looks like your brother needs help controlling himself.”

“No, no! I don't!”

“Then what do you need?”

Mycroft glared at him as if it was obvious.

“And grab a gag of your choosing while you're up there, babe.”

Sherlock bounded up the stairs, his hard cock bobbing with each step. At least he had thrown on a dressing gown. That was one thing John insisted on for the benefit of their landlady. It didn't take long for him to find the gag he wanted, it was shaped like an enormous prick, and he grabbed the nearest cock cage and ran back downstairs. Handing them to John, he went and got a bowl full of ice.

“I bet you're loving your little brother more and more, right now,” John said teasingly. He didn't give the older man an opportunity to argue, just pressed the fake dick into his mouth. “Enjoy sucking this, won't you, Mycroft? It's a present from Sherlock and you're not going to get the real thing today.”

At least he wouldn't be getting it that way. Maybe he would get a good pounding later if that's what it took to make one of the two switches stand up and Dom.

“Either of you want to play yet?” John asked as he made chinky noises with the ice.

When both switches refused to answer John grabbed a handful of cubes and pressed them to Mycroft's bollocks. The switch tried to jerk back, but couldn't move very far at all. “Oh, Mycie, that's kind of cute. Where do you think you're going?”

Mycroft closed his eyes and tried picturing hot deserts or warm springs. It didn't work.

“I suppose, for you, it's a relief that he didn't pick one with a sound in it.”

“I looked, sir,” he said from where he knelt beside the doctor's chair. “We don't have one.”

John frowned and gave Mycroft's bollocks a squeeze. “After today, I expect that to be remedied. Consider it payment for sorting you two out.”

Mycroft shook his head. “No, sir. Not payment. Thanks.”

“I wouldn't thank me yet.”

He manhandled Mycroft's dwindling length into the cage and used a padlock to secure it. “Now, have fun.” The doctor returned to his seat next to Sherlock.

John pulled his pet up on his lap. He took Sherlock's jaw in hand and brought their lips together in a rough kiss. When they broke away, he could feel his boy trembling in his arms. “What would you like me to do to you, pet?”

“Anything, sir. Anything you like.”

“That's my boy,” John whispered, he pushed him off his lap and back to the floor. “Go and kneel by Greg. We'll play with him next, I think.”

The DCI gave a little whimper. He knew, he just knew, he was in for the same treatment Mycroft had received. Greg thought of every penis wilting memory he could conjure up. It worked, somewhat.

John noticed. Of course he did. “Aww, you worrying about your little cock, are you, Greg?”

The greying haired man tugged his wrists in the cuffs, but with the collar tied the way it was, he wasn't going anywhere.

“I'm fine, sir. Honest. I can be good.”

John chuckled. “But will you? Somehow I doubt it.” He walked over to his chair. “And look what my boy was thoughtful enough to bring... a second cage. I know you're so grateful.”

“But, I didn't. I wasn't-”

“Wasn't what?”

“A brat like Mycroft, sir,” the DCI finished quietly.

“Oh, it doesn't take much for you to be a brat though does it, Greg? Am I right in thinking a few days ago you deliberately wound your sometimes Dom up by not leaving work on time?” John grasped the DCI by the chin. “Oh, go ahead and give us and answer. Say no, and I'll know you're lying. Say yes and I'll know you're a manipulative sub. It's a lose-lose scenario.”

Greg bit his lip, refusing to answer. John was right.

“Or I could always go upstairs and get another gag, or Sherlock could and you'll like it even less.”

“What will I get punished for less?” He asked.

“Sherlock, gag,” the Dom said instantly. While his sub was gone, John locked Greg's cock away. “I don't really understand the mindset of either of you. Honestly.” He shook his head. “Something about it obviously appeals to the pair of you. Maybe I should make you a schedule.”

Sherlock returned, ball gag in hand. “Here you go, sir.”

John took it and forced it into Greg's mouth, buckling it tight.

“Did you get one for yourself?”

Sherlock's eyes widened. “No, sir, I'm sorry, sir. I thought I was being good. I'll-”

“Shh,” John raised a finger to his lips. “I was teasing. You are being good. Very good.”

The sub blushed and ducked his head. “Thank you, sir.”

John ran his hands over his boy's body and licked at his nipples, sucking on one, then the other. Nibbling each one in turn. “Would my beautiful boy like a little spanking before I fuck him in front of these naughty men?”

“Doesn't that make me look naughty too, sir?”

“It depends. The cane would make you look naughty, my hand wouldn't.”

Sherlock's mouth quirked up in a half smile. He did like the feel of John's hand as it warmed his arse. “Yes, sir. Please, spank me, sir.”

John grinned outright. “Alright, boy.” He sat. “Over my lap. Your face towards Mycroft.”

He did as he was told and made himself comfy, smiling smugly at his older brother.

“Hands behind your back, boy.” The doctor took hold of his wrists in one hand and began spanking Sherlock's pale, pert arse with the other.

It hurt, but it felt good. The moments when John's hand lingered between each blow were the best. Calloused fingers and a firm palm soothed the stinging hurt just so before delivering the next blow. “Sir,” Sherlock ground out, “p-permission to,” here he blushed again, “permission to rub against your thigh?”

“Or,” he turned one of Sherlock's hands over so he had to grab the other wrist and then used his newly freed hand to reached beneath the detective and grip his cock.

Sherlock's eyes rolled back in his head as he held his wrist for dear life. Each smack of his arse was accompanied by a stroke of his cock and he was fairly certain he could die like this and be perfectly content.

“C-can I come, sir? P-please, sir?”

“Oh, my gorgeous little boy,” he glanced at the two devious switches to check they were watching. Mycroft was, wide-eyed but Greg wasn't.

“Oi, Mr. DCI, if you don't look over here at my lovely boy as he comes you will be in a lot of trouble.”

Greg, for some reason was feeling the need to be disobedient. He changed the direction he was facing, which had been just at the floor in front of the bench, to the other direction; the wall.

At first, the Dom thought he was going to accept the challenge, but the result wasn't as irritating as it could have been. “Oh, Gregory, you'll pay for that. Right after my pet gets his fun.”

John wriggled a finger into Sherlock's hole which was still slick from earlier play that morning. The sub gave a little gasp as John worked his cock faster as he pushed in and crooked his finger just so. Soon enough Sherlock's body was juddering and he was coming over John's hand and jeans, making a lovely, glistening mess, then he went limp.

“Oh, pet, beautiful,” he whispered.

“Hmm,” was all Sherlock managed.

John gave him a while to recover before he tipped him off his lap onto the floor.

“Now for you,” the Dom said, as he stood beside Greg. The doctor reached around the DCI, grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around Sherlock's shoulders before turning back to face Greg. “Both of you interrupted our peaceful morning, so both of you can pay the same price. I have some ginger root in the fridge that should be just perfect for the two of you.”

The DCI started shaking his head.

“Sherlock, babe, if you would?”

“Yes, sir,” he said dreamily. He was deep in the belly of subspace and was floating as he pondered into the kitchen. He whittled a pair of butt plugs on autopilot. John made the sub carve the ones that were used on himself quite often as part of his punishments. When he was finished, he gave them to John, his cheek presented in hopes of a kiss.

Instead of his cheek, John grabbed his face in his hands and kissed him until the pair were short of breath. “If you're feeling up to it, by all means go and shove one of those up your brother's bum.”

“Mmm,” Sherlock agreed absently as he passed one to the doctor and plodded to the British Government with the other one.

Still floating along, Sherlock waved and said, “Hi, Myc.” He walked around behind him to put the ginger in, but Mycroft tried to fight him, bringing Sherlock somewhat out of 'space. The younger Holmes leant forwards and whispered in his brother's ear, “You don't want to make John angry, Myc. Trust me.”

He grunted something around the gag in response.

Sherlock chuckled dryly, apparently understanding anyway. “Sir,” he called over. “I think Myc wants you to do it for him.”

“Really?” The Dom walked over. “By all means.” John already knew Mycroft liked things a bit rough, well, very rough, so he pushed the plug of root into his hole with a smooth, insistent pace. The low hiss of pain the switch let out told him all he needed to know.

“Come and sit on my lap, babe, we can watch telly.”

“And just leave them, sir?” He asked quietly.

“Oh yeah. I'm sure they've got nothing to say.” He waited a moment and nothing was said. “Told you.” He pulled him down to his lap and flicked the TV on.

The detective bit his lip, trying not to look too gleeful. He knew if he did, he'd get the same treatment, so he ducked his head and buried it at the junction of John's neck and shoulder.

“You can stay right there,” John whispered.


	2. Consequences

Sherlock smiled to himself as the end credits rolled across the TV screen. John had petted and stroked his hair for the entire duration of the program. He didn't want it to end, not just yet.

John was more than happy to oblige. If he was honest, he did enjoy the challenge Sherlock presented on a day to day basis but this was good too. A break, for a change.

Mycroft made a muffled sound of impatience around his gag. Sherlock immediately stuck his tongue out at him. The instant the detective's head was pulled back by the air, he realised his mistake.

“What did I say to you before they came in?”

“Sir, I didn't mean it. It was-” Sherlock spoke so fast that the doctor couldn't cut off most of his sentence.

“What. Did. I. Say?”

“That I wasn't to get smug or cocky, sir.”

“And...”

“And I wasn't to make fun of them.”

John crossed his arms. “And...”

Sherlock whispered his next words, “And you wouldn't hesitate to punish me in front of them.”

“Do you think that's unreasonable, given your actions?”

“Sir, I only-”

“Do you?” He repeated sternly.

“No, sir.”

“No, sir, what?”

“No, sir, it's reasonable for you to punish me, sir.”

John dumped Sherlock on the floor, causing Mycroft to attempt a laugh. “Boy!” the Dom warned the elder Holmes, “Your predicament could always be made worse.”

His look clearly said 'how'.

John pointed to the corner.

“Sir,” Sherlock sighed. “Please, sir, I'm sorry.”

“I know. But I made it quite clear I want your behaviour to be perfect. Corner.”

Sherlock crawled to his corner, feeling more than a bit annoyed. He had been good, hadn't he? He hadn't called Mycroft fat or Greg dull or anything. It was unfair. He banged his head against the wall in frustration.

“Is there a problem, Sherlock?” John asked. He had moved towards the still struggling Mycroft to take the older man up on his offer. But he paused to look over at the corner.

The detective had turned around and was sat with his back to the corner. Mycroft didn't deserve John's attention. He wouldn't let him have it.

John folded his arms. “You were so good for me at the weekend and even since we've been back you've been fantastic. Your new found good behaviour has led me to know how good you really can be. Why are you spoiling it now?”

“I'm not!” Sherlock turned to face the wall. It should be obvious. It was John who was ruining everything.

The Dom walked over to stand behind the sub, his very own sub. “If this is because I was paying attention to Mycroft, you're the one who asked me to fix him, fix them.”

He huffed in response.

“Safe word now, Sherlock and this will stop.”

The detective didn't safe word.

“Then stop being a petulant brat. I love you, you know I do, so stop being jealous. You wanted me to help them and I gave you my terms for doing so.”

“Yes, sir,” came Sherlock's reply. He'd concede, if only to himself, that John might possibly have a slightly valid point. He laced his fingers together behind his neck and promised himself he would behave. Again.

John waited for the detective to act out again. He was certain it was coming. When it didn't, he gave a sharp nod and turned back to Mycroft.

“I believe you wanted your position to be a little uncomfortable?”

Mycroft puffed out a breath.

“Was that a yes?” John didn't care what Mycroft might have to say. He took it as confirmation either way.

John unfastened Mycroft's cuffs from the eye hook and refastened them together behind the older man's back, then he grabbed Mycroft's ear and tugged him over to his favourite chair. “Lean over the seat, pet, with your arse in the air.”

Mycroft shook his head and struggled despite the grip on his ear.

“Oh, Mycroft,” he shook his head in disappointment and then changed his mind as to how he was going to make his predicament worse.

“Sherlock, come here.”

Hesitantly, the youngest sub in the room got to his feet and walked towards the doctor.

“Lean over Greg.”

Frowning in confusion, he leant forward. John then pushed Mycroft on top of him, attaching a leash to Mycroft's collar and tying it to the same spot as Greg's. He walked around the subs and grabbed Sherlock's wrists, cuffing them and attaching them to an eyehole.

“I hope you three are comfy.”

John stepped back, feeling very proud of himself for that bit of ingenuity. If the three couldn't play nice with each other, they could at least be punished together. Just to drive his point home, he dropped into his chair and picked up his book.

“Sir, you can't be serious.”

John didn't need to know his own sub's voice to know it was him speaking. He was the only one out of the three of them not gagged.

“What would you suggest?” His response was a clear question.

“I... Sir?!” Sherlock had actually whined.

John turned a page in his book. “If I hear any further complaints or if I am interrupted in any way before I finish this chapter, you will all seriously regret it.”

Greg would have said (if he could speak) that he had the worst deal, but John would have to agree with Sherlock when he knew it was him. Yes, he only had one person on top of him, but he had a wriggling shifting body beneath him as well, rather than a bench. And Sherlock hadn't even been caged. John would have to keep an eye on him to make sure he didn't get any ideas.

Greg could feel every inch of Sherlock body where it touched him - every single growing inch that was pressed against him. He groaned, feeling extremely frustrated. John was definitely good at being a Dom.

He was picking up some decent ideas, but knew Mycroft would have been too. Not only that, but John wouldn't let him or Mycroft go home until one of them wanted to Dom, or rather was willing to Dom.

Greg shook his head, wondering why he was fighting it. He sucked in a breath around his gag when he felt Sherlock writhe above him.

John froze as he was in the process of turning another page. “I know Sherlock's not being naughty already.”

The two men on the bottom of the pile froze.

“I distinctly remember saying that you would all pay the consequences for interrupting my book.”

Mycroft growled deep in his throat. Of course, his baby brother would bollocks everything up. Well, more than he and Greg had already done. It was almost enough to make him want to claim his place as a Dom, but, no. Even if he did, he wouldn't be allowed to Dom his brother, John was clearly not in the mood.

“Sir,” Sherlock spoke up. “Permission to speak?”

John sighed. “Granted.”

“It was me that caused the distraction, sir. Not these two. Punish me alone.”

That was almost noble, John thought. He was about to relent and agree when he caught the expression on Sherlock's face. He looked victorious, like he thought he had won some contest. “I could, but that's what you want, isn't it? All of my attention for yourself? You're such a greedy little boy.”

Sherlock opened his mouth and then closed it again.

“Not only that, you would love all my attention, but you would love it even more if those two were left trussed up like that as you had it.”

John sat the book down on the table by his chair. “Words, boy. I advise you to use them.”

“Sir... I... Sorry, sir.” He would have dropped to his knees if he could.

John grinned. “You forget, you little brat, I know you better than you know yourself. We've been playing these Dom/sub games long enough for me to know every little thought and feeling that goes through your body. So no, you'll stay there with Mycroft and Greg until I decide otherwise.”

Sherlock's glare for John didn't equal the one his brother was giving him or the one Greg would have aimed at him if he could. Since the DCI couldn't glare at Sherlock, he concentrated on how he would make the younger man pay the next time he was permitted to lay hands on him.

“Dear me, Boy. I think you've made your partners there a bit upset with you,” John observed. “Maybe I should let them have their way with you.” But no, he wouldn't. Greg and Mycroft would then both be acting as Doms. That would just be the flip side to their current problem. The two older subs tried to thrash at that.

“But that means the two of you want to Dom now. But not each other, just Sherlock. Well, I can't allow that. And I'm sure the burning sensation of those ginger plugs has worn off. What to do with the three of you seeing as you can't play nicely.”

“John? Sir!” Sherlock called out as the doctor walked from the room.

Of course, John wasn't going far and wouldn't be gone for long. Just to the bedroom to fetch copious amounts of rope and a few other items.

When John reappeared, arms laden with toys from upstairs it was to one major change in the room. He dropped the stuff on his chair and turned to the three subs. Well, two visible subs would be more appropriate. Somehow, in which only God knew the answer, Sherlock had got free from the two older men. He was sat on the floor beside where the eyehole was that connected his cuffed wrists to the bench. He would probably have got the cuffs off if John had been gone just a bit longer.

“You sneaky little...” The Dom walked over and grabbed Sherlock by the hair. He gave it a sharp tug.

Despite the extremely pleased for himself look, he seemed surprised that he'd managed to do it in the first place. He'd left Mycroft laying on top of Greg, they made sure they had grunted and kicked at him as he climbed out however.

John knelt by Sherlock and buckled a collar around his neck. “You are impossible.” He transferred his boy's cuffed wrists one at a time from the eye hook to the D ring on his collar.

“You like impossible,” Sherlock argued.

“Not when I was reading my book. Now shut it, or that pretty gag on my chair will be in your mouth.”

The detective frowned and then looked at the pile of toys, this could be fun.

“You weren't reading,” Sherlock pointed out. “You were pretending to read.”

John's eyebrow shot up. “Fine.” He dug through the pile of toys until he found the large ball gag. It was the unforgiving one that Sherlock hated. Using the dildo shaped gag would have been giving him just what he wanted.

“Bollocks,” Sherlock had time to hiss before the gag was wedged between his teeth.

John chuckled dryly. “I've already said I know you better than you know yourself.”

The Dom clipped a chain onto Sherlock's collar, then led him back to the corner. Once there, he attached the chain to a hook high up on the wall. “You stay here, pretty boy, while I sort Mycroft and Greg.” With that, he gave his boy's red backside a smart slap and backed away.

Sherlock breathed deeply through his nose trying to convey his unimpressed attitude to the situation.

John ignored it, he was in the middle of helping Mycroft up. Greg groaned with relief at being able to move all his parts again. He removed the gags from the older men, smiling as they worked their jaws without speaking.

The Dom had an idea. “Mycroft, why don't you pick out some toys for me to use on Sherlock, two, say.” As he helped Greg up, he added, “And you can pick two more.” The doctor would use the toys on the two switches, not Sherlock. He knew the older Holmes might have come up with the same scheme himself, but he was counting on him not expecting it from John.

“Can we confer?” Mycroft asked.

John cleared his throat pointedly.

“I mean, sir.”

“You may,” the doctor hid his smile well. He glanced over to his own sub in the corner. He'd given up on letting his wrists just dangle so had his hands behind his head. He was also leaning forward, pressing his face into the wall.

While the two switches busied themselves with making their selections, John walked over to stand behind his boy. He ran a hand along the long column of his back and down over his plush arse. Every now and again, he gave it a little pinch or slap.

“Sir, we've made our selections,” Mycroft called.

“What do you think, Sherlock? Looking forward to it?”

Sherlock didn't answer, but John was sure it was because he couldn't rather than wouldn't. He could see how much his boy wanted to kick off in frustration.

John turned to see what the switches had selected. There was a set of nipple clamps (almost a given), a paddle made from heavy silicone, a rather large butt plug and a set of weights (intended for use with the clamps). Interesting.

“Who picked the plug?” the Dom asked as he walked over and picked it up.

“That would be me, sir,” Greg offered immediately.

“Ah.” John grinned. “Then climb up on the bench again, on all fours. You get to be the one who wears it.”

Greg froze. “Sir?”

“Now, Gregory!”

This time the DCI flinched, John never used his full name. Never.

“What was the other thing he chose?” He asked of Mycroft.

He bit his lip. “The paddle, sir,” he whispered.

“Good. That leaves the clamps and weights for my boy. Mycroft, go upstairs and find the plug that matches that one, can't have Greg in this alone, can we?”

The DCI, who had climbed up on the bench as ordered, held himself perfectly still and remained silent as the bit of ginger root was removed. John didn't give him time to get used to the empty feeling before he pressed the plug to his entrance. “You know, Greg, forcing me to be responsible for the three of you at once was rather thoughtless of you. No one asked me if it was what I wanted. Everyone just assumed... Maybe I wanted a quiet day of crap telly.”

Greg looked over his shoulder and then at Mycroft, who was stood sheepishly at the door, plug in hand.

“On your knees,” John ordered. The government official dropped immediately.

“Tell him what I just said to you.”

The DCI repeated John's complaint and the pair watched as Mycroft frowned.

John finished with Greg, then did the same with Mycroft, replacing the ginger plug with the more substantial one Mycroft had fetched. “You know, I haven't heard an apology from either of you yet.”

The two switches' words stumbled over each other as they rushed to apologise.

“One at a time. Greg, you first.”

“We're very sorry, sir. It's just, an apology seems rather... weak at this point.”

Mycroft nodded his agreement. “Sir, yes. Apologies seem inadequate.”

“You're right. They are. Is one of you willing to be the Dom now?”

When neither responded, John sighed. He moved his attention to his boy and spun him around, he pinched each nipple a few times and attached the clamps setting he little weight set on the hook in front of the younger man so he could focus his attention on them.

Then the doctor turned and grabbed the two switches by the ear, immediately tugging them up the stairs into his old room.

“Lean over the bed, both of you,” he ordered. “You'll both be getting a spanking and then left here for the rest of the evening.”

John hefted the paddle a few times, then he swung it at Mycroft's arse. The government official bucked and grunted. Immediately, John brought it down on Greg's bum, eliciting a similar response. He would never tell them, but he was actually enjoying himself, had been since the moment they had arrived. That wasn't the point, they hadn't asked. He alternated between swatting Greg's arse and Mycroft's. He'd have to try this with all three men, sometime.

John continued with his pummelling until each of the older men were sobbing.

“What do you say?” John asked finally.

“I'm sorry, sir,” Greg whispered.

“And you?”

“I'm sorry, too, sir.”

“What for?”

“For not asking and just assuming,” the DCI responded for both of them.

John nodded with satisfaction as he dropped the paddle and caressed each obviously aching arse. “Good. Now you can each get on the floor at the foot of the bed, one of you at each bedpost.”

They shared watery glances before doing what John ordered, practically immediately.

“Hold on to the bedpost.”

Each man brought shaky fingers forward to grip onto the post.

John had retrieved some leather fur lined cuffs and attached each pair of wrists to the post.

“When we go to bed, I might let you up.”

He turned off the light as he left. He wasn't worried. There was a baby monitor in the room. All he had to do was turn on the handset and he would be able to hear if anything went wrong. He would also be able to hear if the pair decided to have a little chat. Of course they didn't know that. They had no idea. Mycroft may have made the room more productive for their needs, but John was the one that had put it in there in the first place. It was also hidden. Even from Sherlock.

Downstairs, John turned on the handset, making certain the volume was low, but not so low he wouldn't hear one of the switches if they called out. He set it beside the skull on the mantle, then went to check on his boy. This time he hadn't moved.

“Now to take care of you, my little brat.” John unhooked the hanging weights and clipped it to the chain.

Sherlock hissed.

“I've left them upstairs. That doesn't mean you get off lightly, is that understood?”

John still had the chain pulled taut. He managed a slight nod.

“Pet, it's not that what you did was an enormous transgression. It's that your actions always seem to come back around to that: taunting Mycroft.” He took a small step back, still pulling on the chain and forcing Sherlock to lean as far forward as he could. “It's a nasty habit.” John dropped the weight and watched as it settled against the sub's chest. “Don't you think, Sherlock?”

He nodded again.

“I quite fancied using that paddle on you so it's a shame Greg chose it. You're going to come over by my chair and stay knelt. Depending on your behaviour will decide on whether you can rest your head on my leg and if I remove the gag.”

The moment he could, Sherlock crawled over to kneel by John's chair. He was grateful he hadn't been exiled to their bedroom to wait alone. He watched as his Dom sat and picked up his book. This time, John would actually read it, the detective was certain. That meant no comforting hand in Sherlock's hair. The sub huffed out a sigh around his gag.

John smirked, but made sure the pages of his book hid it.

He should have made the sub go and get him a cup of tea, but he truthfully wanted a beer and he was certain the fridge was empty of them.

Sherlock found himself desperately wanting to be touched by John. Even a brush of a pinkie finger would do. He moved as if he were shifting on his knees to make them more comfortable and edged a fraction of an inch closer to his Dom.

John didn't react despite Sherlock's obvious attempt. He was well aware of what his pet's plan was. It wouldn't work, but he wouldn't say anything until he did something more drastic.

The sub was growing restless. He tried not to move more than necessary, but was failing miserably. It had started with him curling and uncurling his toes, but had grown to his feet shifting haphazardly behind him. John figured it wouldn't be long before his pet really started wiggling, but he still didn't intervene. Whatever he did to calm his pet would mean touching him or snapping at him. He didn't want to do either. One would give him what he wanted, the other wouldn't be fair to either of them.

John was taken aback by a broken whine. He had expected more fidgeting or maybe for Sherlock to edge close enough to touch him, but nothing vocal. He had to grip his book tight to keep from reaching out to his boy.

“Problem?” John asked, his face schooled carefully to indifference.

It was kind of cruel of him to ask a question he knew would need a few words to answer properly.

He reached over and unbuckled the gag. “This is temporary,” he added.

Sherlock worked his jaw for a moment, getting the stiffness out. “Sir, thank you.”

“Don't thank me yet. I'm giving you a chance to answer my question. Is there a problem.”

“Not as such, sir, not requiring a safe word, but...” He broke off, biting his lip.

“But?”

Sherlock sighed. He had been doing so well. But John was right, how he always took the piss out of Mycroft. He deserved this.

“Nothing, sir.”

He leaned forward, straining towards the gag, wanting it back in his mouth.

“Hold it.” John moved the gag, frowning. “I don't think so. What was that sound you made all about?”

Sherlock sighed again. “I wanted you to touch me, sir.”

“Isn't that sweet.” John buckled the gag back in place. But I don't think you've earned it, not yet.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. That was what he was trying to say by leaning towards the gag in the first place. He dropped his head in defeat.

John shook his head as he looked down at his boy's curls. His pet was finally starting to feel regret for his actions. John didn't fool himself by thinking it was remorse.

He picked up his book and went back to his reading.

It was about 10 minutes in when he heard noises on the baby monitor.

He set his book aside and walked over to the mantle to listen.

Mycroft was apparently apologising to Greg for his behaviour. The DCI was trying to stop him and apologise himself. John snorted. Neither of them were offering to take over as Dom, not yet, but they would hopefully arrive at that point soon.

John's hopes for that went out the window when an argument started up between the two of them. It has escalated so quickly it was hard to hear what they were arguing over. Whatever it was sounded incredibly childish.

John grabbed the two gags and headed upstairs.

“Really?” the Dom said as he stepped into the room. “I expect this sort of behaviour from Sherlock, but you two are supposed to know better!”

Their bickering was halted immediately.

“John, we-”

“Shut it, Holmes,” the doctor said sternly. “You are not children. Why do you feel the need to act like them?”

Greg buried his face in his cuffed hands. This was unbearable. He couldn't face John at work, not after this. Let the man spank him? Sure. Hell, he could handle being fucked by him with no shame, but this, being called out for childish behaviour like he was Sherlock? Greg was thoroughly embarrassed.

He had to look up, however, when John gripped him by the hair and wedged the gag he'd had earlier between his teeth. It wasn't long before Mycroft had the fake dildo back down his throat, growling in frustration.

John, flickered the camera on the wall to swivel and slammed the door shut behind him.

He stomped back down the stairs, feeling frustrated. “That brother of yours and Greg! I swear they're changing into you,” John said to his sub. “You know what?” He picked up a wooden paddle that Sherlock hated from the stack of toys. “I think using this to redden your pretty arse further is just what I need to relax.”

Sherlock watched in horror as John carried it to the sofa and sat down.

“Here, boy. Now.”

Without hesitance Sherlock shuffled across the room as well as he could. His head low, allowing John to do whatever he wanted.

The doctor pulled him up and over his lap, but seemed to change his mind. He stroked him instead. “Good boy,” he soothed, they'd been no argument, no fight. “Taking my frustration out on you isn't the way to proceed.”

John hefted him up so that Sherlock was sitting on his lap. He kissed along his boy's jaw. “At least you are being good for me, now, you gorgeous thing.” He disconnected the cuffs that held Sherlock's hands in place. “You've come so far, putting forth so much effort.” John reached behind his boy's head and unbuckled the gag, tossing it aside.

He brought his boys head down to rest at his neck to hold him for a while.

Sherlock sighed, confused at first, but not willing to argue or question the comfort John seemed willing to offer.

John chuckled. After just a few moments of running his fingers through Sherlock's hair, his boy had started making little sounds of appreciation. It almost sounded like he was purring. A few minutes later, the rumbling purrs devolved into soft snores. It felt so good just holding him that John hated to move them both.

Sighing softly, he knew he couldn't leave the brats upstairs the way they were, so he lifted Sherlock gently and carried him through to their bedroom.

He let the younger man unravel himself moaning incoherently.

“I'll be back in a minute, baby,” he whispered.

John was quiet until he reached the top of the stairs and then he kicked the door in. Mycroft was tugging at the cuffs, Greg had given up hope, just resting his head on his hands.

“You two.” John shook his head. “I have a well behaved boy waiting on me downstairs. I don't want to waste much time on you.” He uncuffed them both from the bed. “Now get in bed.”

Mycroft and Greg scrambled to obey.

“You can take off the gags, too,” John said with a sigh, “but I had best not hear any further bickering.”

They both removed them as soon as John had given his permission, Mycroft going as far as to throw it half way across the room.

“No, sir,” they said together.

He joined the cuffs together in front of them when they'd got under the covers.

“We'll continue this in the morning.”

This time, when John left the room, he closed the door softly. He had his own boy waiting for him downstairs and he didn't want to wake him if he was asleep. John padded downstairs and into their bedroom where he slid under the covers and wrapped his arm around Sherlock, enjoying the peace.

The detective curled into him, tucking himself into John's chest.

“If only your brother was more like you, eh?” He smiled softly.


	3. Resolution

The next morning, John woke to Sherlock nuzzling at his jawline. His boy was being soft and gentle, not insistent, still trying to compete with his brother, no doubt.

“Good morning my gorgeous pet,” the doctor said with a smile in his voice. “Have you heard any noises from upstairs?”

“No, sir,” he murmured. “Do you want coffee?”

“Hmm, yes and toast.”

Sherlock climbed out of bed and went to make the requested items, stopping by the loo to relieve himself first. The small amount of noise he made must have been enough to alert the men upstairs that the detective and his Dom were awake because whispering soon came to John's ears over the baby monitor.

Sherlock reappeared and John had managed to sit himself up. The doctor grinned when he spotted that Sherlock had made enough for the both of them.

Setting the tray with their light breakfast over John's lap, the sub sat on the bed next to him. “Do you think they've sorted themselves out yet, sir?”

“They had best hope they have,” John said just before he took a sip of his coffee. “That's good.” He set the cup down. “Let's just be us for a bit.”

“That's fine, John.” Sherlock took a bite of toast and then lay back down on the bed. “I wonder who's going to Dom, though.”

“Can't you deduce it, babe?”

“Mycroft can't, how do you expect me too?” He realised what he had said and immediately began apologising. “Sorry, sir, John. I'm sorry.”

The doctor tried to look stern, but couldn't manage it. His boy had put him in too good a mood the night before and again this morning. Instead, he laughed. “If you don't have a clue, then I certainly don't. C'mere.” He held out his arm. “For your snarky remark earlier, I demand a kiss.”

Sherlock sighed in relief, angry with himself for almost screwing up. “I'm getting there, John.”

“I know, babe, it's fine.” He snuggled his boyfriend until the noise on the baby monitor got too much to handle. By that point the two calm men had finished their morning drinks and their toast. “Go and get them, Boy,” John said, changing his tone so his sub would know he expected no complaining. “Leave them cuffed, let them go to the loo if they need to, then deposit them either side of my arm chair. I'll be hand feeding the pair of them seeing as neither will grow up. In fact, move their arms around behind them.” He reached over to the unit and passed the younger man the key to the cuffs. “You can get on with your experiment after if you'd like.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sherlock entered the room where the two switches were whispering. “Good morning Mycroft, Greg. John wants you both downstairs.” He held up the key to their cuffs. “But first, he wants me to move your cuffs around behind your backs.”

He grabbed his brother roughly and spun him over, the two older men might not have been aware of the baby monitor hidden, but Sherlock certainly was. He wasn't going to say something stupid to get himself in trouble.

“Reach for the headboard Mycie,” he ordered.

Grumbling under his breath the older Holmes complied and reached up.

Sherlock quickly uncuffed him and snapped them together behind his back. Then he did the same with Greg.

“Now, do be careful going downstairs. If you need the loo, John gave you permission.” Sherlock walked to the door and looked back at them. “I wouldn't keep him waiting.” Then he remembered John's exact words. He'd better not mess this up. He waited at the top of the stairs for them and they both grumbled and groaned as they climbed from bed and followed the detective down the stairs.

Only Mycroft needed the loo so Sherlock took the younger switch through to John and pushed him to his knees beside his arm chair.

“Sherlock…” Greg complained.

“Shh,” Sherlock hushed him. “I'm doing what John said to do. I don't want to disappoint him today.”

“Hmph. I don't know why today should be different.”

The detective looked at him, hurt.

Greg lowered his head and looked at the floor. “Sorry.”

He heard the chain flush and wandered through to grab his brother.

He dumped him on the other side of the chair.

“Can I help, sir?” He asked softly from the kitchen door.

John shook his head. “Nope. You can crack on with that experiment though now, if you want?”

As Sherlock did just that, the Dom walked into the living room, bearing a breakfast tray with coffee and toast for the two kneeling men. He set it on the small table near his chair, then sat. “You two don't look like you slept very well. Weren't you comfortable?”

They both glared at John but not before glaring at each other.

“It's not fair, he was-”

Mycroft cut him off. “It wasn't me, it was you!”

The Dom cleared his throat. “Enough, boys! Enough!” He barked.

John reached for a slice of toast and broke a piece off. He waved it in front of Greg who was staring at the floor. “Let's not make things worse than they have to be. Eat.”

The switch's eyes flicked up to John's face and he blanched. “Sorry... sir.” He let the Dom feed him the toast. Greg had a feeling it would be the easiest part of the day.

Mycroft had been copying the younger man by staring at the floor but when John reached his turn he refused to participate and kept his mouth closed tightly.

The Dom grasped Mycroft by the chin and forced him to meet his eyes. “Do you really want to do this, boy?” He waited a moment for a response, but didn't get one. “I know you're not afraid to play rough and I haven't held back, but trust me when I say I can play it rougher than I have been.”

The government official scowled.

“Gregory, this is your fau-” he was cut off when John wedged a bit of toast between his teeth.

“Don't!” John barked at him. “I'll not have you blaming Greg for this. It took both of you to get into this predicament. You're a grown man, act like it.” John shoved another bite into his mouth.

In breaking off another bit of toast John had taken his hand away from his chin, which meant Mycroft could make a point to look away.

Sherlock had appeared at the door, watching with half a scowl but amusement in his eyes too.

“Pet,” John called out, “fetch the posture collar for me. Your brother can't behave himself.”

Biting his lip to keep from laughing he ran up to the playroom to get the collar. Despite his mirth, he hoped his brother wouldn't get himself into too much trouble.

Mycroft growled as John buckled the stiff collar around his neck, forcing him to remain upright.

“How's the experiment, pet?”

“Good, sir. Really good.”

“You see that?” The blond offered the naughty sub. “Your baby brother is so well behaved he gets to entertain himself.”

He turned to Greg and offered him some coffee which the DCI drank greedily. Greg needed his caffeine in the morning and he'd do just about anything to get it. Not to mention he wanted to avoid Mycroft's fate.

“Good boy, Greg,” John said, giving him a pat on the head. “Do you think Mycroft deserves coffee this morning?”

Greg should have been annoyed at the clearly teasing pat on the head like a dog but he wasn't.

“No, sir.”

Mycroft growled something under his breath, more annoyed that he couldn't scowl at his boyfriend.

“Are you feeling neglected, Mycroft?” John patted the government official on the head. “Maybe you shouldn't have started the day with such an attitude.” He pulled at Mycroft's short hair, making his eyes water.

“Are you going to eat without a fuss now?”

Mycroft managed to shoot his gaze at Greg but the DCI wasn't paying attention at all.

“Yes, sir,” he growled.

“Good.” John finished feeding the pair, alternating between Mycroft and Greg. When he finished, he dusted his hands off and clapped them together. “What to do with you now? You're a bit ripe.” He turned and looked over his shoulder towards the kitchen. “I need the keys to the cuffs, pet. This pair needs a shower.”

Immediately, the detective rose with the keys and handed them to the Dom.

John released the younger of the two switches. “You have 10 minutes.” He watched as he rushed to the bathroom and then turned on Mycroft, “and you can wait there. If you were in a friendly mood I might have let you go in together.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes.

“Boy, you just can't control yourself, can you?” John grabbed him by the ear and pulled. “We're going to Sherlock's corner and you're going to kneel.” The switch huffed. “On rice. Sherlock, bring the rice.”

Sherlock couldn't work out how his brother could get in as much trouble as he himself could. Mycroft was supposedly the 'well behaved' one.

“Scatter it,” John ordered as he held Mycroft at some place near a kneel and a crouch.

He pushed him down and hissed air between his teeth.

“At least you can't move,” the Dom said quietly. “That collar makes balance terrible and the cuffs won't help.”

John turned and looked at Sherlock. He shook his head, a wry expression on his face. “Come here, pet.”

The detective went gratefully into his Dom's arms. “You look tired already, sir.”

“Mmm, I'm just annoyed. I'd rather play than be a disciplinarian.”

Mycroft let out an unamused huff.

“It seems my brother disagrees, sir,” Sherlock whispered softly.

“Well, he is in that sort of a mood.”

It was at that point that the bathroom door opened and Greg reappeared in record time.

“You can stick a shirt on and a pair of jeans,” John said smiling as the DCI appeared, naked and not even a little ashamed that he was. “I'm sure there's something in my closet that will fit you.”

“Really?” Greg asked, surprised. “I mean, really, sir?”

John smiled. “Yeah, you've behaved yourself rather well this morning. You can help Sherlock with his experiment, if he wants your help.”

The detective's nose wrinkled, then he grinned. “Greg, you can get the liver out of the fridge for me.”

The DCI clearly wanted to argue but a glance at John and he changed his mind.

“Alright mate,” he walked off into the kitchen.

“By the way,” the Dom yelled after him. “That isn't the worst thing in there.”

As Mycroft knelt there facing the wall the more frustrated he got. It was like the better behaved Gregory and his brother were the worse he was.

John picked up his laptop to work on his blog, but he couldn't get started. He was too focused on Mycroft. The other man had managed to stay remarkably still considering his predicament. There were little tells of his frustration and pain, however. The prime one being the opening and closing of Mycroft's fists.

“Urgh, Sherlock that stinks!” Came a yell from the other room.

The detective was laughing and Mycroft growled.

“Why do they get to have all the fun and I'm stuck in some corner?”

John glared over at him. “Because you are the one being a little shit, not them.”

Mycroft stood abruptly and turned to glare at John. Rice was stuck to his red, painful looking knees.

The Dom was pretty sure he had the answer to the couple's problem right there: it would be Mycroft going home as the Dom. Still, he couldn't let such wilful disobedience go unpunished not when he should be acting submissively. “Sherlock, I hate to do it so early in the day, but bring me the riding crop.”

Mycroft's mouth opened to argue.

“Don't even think about it,” John barked. “Come. Here!”

Rather sheepish now, Mycroft tiptoed across the room. John at least did him the dignity of brushing his knees off before he unbuckled the collar and threw him over his lap.

When the crop was placed in the Dom's hand, he tapped it lightly against the back of the government official's thighs. “Thank you, Sherlock.” John knew he would have to be careful because he was genuinely annoyed with Mycroft. All of this melodrama and for what? Mycroft clearly wanted to be the Dom. Suddenly John understood. The switch hadn't realised it for himself yet. Well, John would see that he did.

In order for that to happen he would need to humiliate the older man in a way that wouldn't be outside his limits.

“You know, Mycroft, I thought about doing this outside, could you imagine that? Out on the bench at the park, an old army doctor with the British Government bent over his knee like a little boy?”

Sherlock actually chuckled softly from behind them.

“But instead… Sherlock, pet, go and sit on the sofa, Gregory, come and join him. You can both watch.”

Mycroft went completely stiff, every muscle rigid. That made it hurt all the more when the crop came down on his thighs.

“But here's the thing, boy. Even with both of them watching, I'm not finding this a bit arousing.” He brought the crop down again across Mycroft's arse. “I'm not enjoying it. How does that make you feel? No don't answer.” John struck him seven more times. “Now answer.”

Mycroft didn't. Outright refusing to.

“Fine with me.”

John lowered his arm again and again, painting pretty pink splotches all over his arse and thighs.

“And yet, this still isn't giving me the warm tingly feeling I should be getting. Maybe you're not feeling sorry enough.”

Finally, Mycroft pulled in a deep, sobbing breath. “John. Sir! Please! I'm sorry.”

The doctor gave him a couple more strokes to drive home his point. “Why are you sorry? And I advise you to think carefully before you answer.”

Mycroft didn't know why. He just knew he didn't like his boyfriend watching him getting the crop like this, let alone his brother. He could sense their apprehension but the pair on the sofa knew how much of a jerk he had been so they weren't feeling too sorry for him.

John dumped Mycroft on the floor and set the crop aside. He stood and walked across the room to look out the window. When he turned around, the doctor looked at Mycroft gravely. “You are just one step away from a real caning.” He paced back to the switch and hefted him up by the arm. “And all I want is for you to give up that stubborn pride and give me a few words.”

Mycroft's face looked like a well-chastised child. In response, the Dom glanced over his shoulder at the two subs.

“We need some milk, Sherlock. Go and get it, Greg can go with you.”

“Yes, sir,” the two men said quickly, grabbing their jackets as they went passed the door.

The Dom sat in his arm chair and used his finger to indicate where Mycroft should kneel, when he had, he dropped his hand in his hair, warningly.

“Talk to me, Mycroft.”

The older man looked away but John grasped him by the chin and forced him to meet his eyes. “It's just the two of us. No Greg. No Sherlock. You're fighting something and I don't know what it is.” He paused, then repeated, “Talk to me, Mycroft.”

“I don't want to.”

“I can always put you back in the corner. Your pretty pink arse on display.”

“Do what you want.”

“I never took you for an idiot. Not before today.” John frowned at the stubborn man. “You know what. Get dressed. Go home.” It was a bluff that the Dom hoped he didn't get called on. “Greg can stay here with us until you get your head out of your arse.”

The doctor pushed him away, intent on undoing the cuffs.

“No, sir, no! I'm sorry, sir.”

John eyed him for a moment.

“No, you're not.”

Mycroft met John's eyes with deceptive steadiness. “I don't...” He tried to shake his head, but couldn't due to the doctor's sudden grip. “I don't know what this is or why I'm fighting you so much.” He closed his eyes and growled in frustration.

“Then think, Mycroft, it isn't rocket science.”

It was at that point the two got back from the shop. Greg dealt with the milk in the kitchen while Sherlock walked through to the sitting room.

He eyed his Dom warily as he knelt beside Mycroft.

“When you look at me, Myc. Do you want to tell me what to do at the moment?”

Mycroft frown. “Yes. But then I always want to.”

“This is different, though, right?”

“Yes…”

Sherlock looked to John for permission. At his Dom's nod, he reached out and placed his hand to the back of his brother's neck. “Look at Greg and tell me what you want.”

Mycroft did so and bit his lip.

“Don't fight it.” The detective whispered into his brother's ear, “You're operating under a misconception. Greg wants you to take control back.” In a louder voice he said, “Tell us.”

“But I don't want to!” Mycroft snapped. “I like being the sub. Why am I suddenly not allowed to be.”

“Mycroft,” John interrupted. “Out of the three of you I would have expected Sherlock to be the brattiest and you the least, I was completely wrong. The reason I can't Dom you is because you're not letting me! You're trying to Dom me instead.”

It was like Mycroft had been slapped. He puffed up with indignation. “I wasn't topping from the bottom.”

“No,” John agreed. “What you've been doing goes far beyond that. You don't want to be Dommed. You want something else.”

Greg smiled softly at him, cupping his cheek.

“Looks like it's my go to stay on the bottom.”

Mycroft frowned, then pouted, then poked his tongue out.

“Brother-mine, you've never been a sub before, you've enjoyed it. A lot. And now the novelty has worn off. Much like the novelty has worn off for Greg being a Dom. We aren't saying you'll never get to sub again. Were merely suggesting that in your head you don't want to be at the moment.”

Mycroft blinked a few times, uncertain, then Greg kissed him sweetly and everything came into focus. “Oh. Gregory.” He leaned towards his boyfriend and kissed him back. “I... You're right.” Mycroft blushed. “You're all right.”

John leant forward and undid the cuffs.

“You two can stay for lunch, if you'd like, on one condition,” he added.

Mycroft had his arms wrapped around Greg as soon as the cuffs were free.

“What's that?”

“Sherlock and Greg are two subs beside two Doms.”

Mycroft laughed and stood. “Alright.” He looked down at himself. “But I might be underdressed.”

Happy that things were sorted at last, the detective offered, “You can wear something of mine.” He paused. “And get a shower while you're at it. You stink.” Even as John gave him a teasing swat on the bum, Sherlock was smiling. Things were as they should be. “Oh, I almost forgot, you won't fit into anything of mine, will you?”

That earned the detective an almost fond smack on the back of the head.

Mycroft showered and changed, fitting very nicely into a pair of Sherlock's jeans and a T-shirt. When he reappeared, Greg was right there waiting.

The DCI took in his Dom's jean clad form appreciatively. “Mycroft, sir, you definitely need to go shopping for jeans. They look fantastic on you.”

“Hmm…” he murmured.

Within seconds he had Greg on his knees by a firm hand on his shoulder pressing down and he brought his head to his waist holding him tight for a moment.

It wasn't about power or dominance and submission. It was about re-establishing their deep connection and it was highly personal. John pulled Sherlock into the other room by the hand to give the two men a moment of privacy.


End file.
